


Safeguard

by DriftingGlass



Series: The Afterschool Library Chronicle [5]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asher is a Complicated Asshole, Drama, Drama & Romance, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gon Being Flirty, Hurt/Comfort, Killua Being Oblivious, Killua Tutors Gon, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Oh How it's Escalated to This Point, Possessive!Gon, Psychological Drama, Revenge, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-20 23:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftingGlass/pseuds/DriftingGlass
Summary: [ Safeguard - "protect from harm or damage with an appropriate measure." ]“What the fuck is your problem?”Gon’s voice is low and breathy when he says: “You know what you did.”Asher blinks and suddenly steps back. Gon inwardly lifts his head at this gesture, as if some form of dominance was communicated in that split-second motion, but Asher would keel over and die before he would admit to any such thing.- in which, yeah, this isn't just about Killua tutoring Gon anymore. Told in parts. -





	1. In the Hallway.

Gon had never seen Killua smile so much in his life. And being able to witness it made his chest constrict and release into a cacophony of bubbling emotions that dragged his attention from his breakfast to the elated glow on Killua’s face as he scrunched his nose and swept back his little sister’s hair into braids. She giggles and allowed him to do so, her voice trailing off into delighted muffled syllables.

He remains at her side at the table while Mito asks him numerous questions, though Killua is polite and steadfast as he replies to each and every statement, not once glancing away from Gon’s adoptive mother while he keeps his hands on Alluka’s shoulders. Occasionally she reaches behind her and plays with the tufts of hair on the back of Killua’s head, scratching above his nape. He responds with a casual resting of his chin on her head, attached and shielding.

Gon takes another bite of his cereal, grinning broadly once Alluka stares at him and laughs at his milk-covered lips. He giggles and Killua, once again, can barely keep the smile off his face, but rather than move towards Gon’s side and say something to him, he stayed next to Alluka and bent to her eye-level, whispering under his breath to her while she smiled and nodded.

Gon’s chest swells with warmth and pride. It was not surprising at all to him that Killua was extraordinarily overprotective.

He’d witnessed it countless times before, masked behind irritation and flustered yelling that only shed further light on his reluctant embarrassment whenever the two of them were finished with a tutoring session or spending time together afterwards. Killua was always adamant about Gon’s academic progress and how teachers would have to come to understand that he was actually intelligent, but could get easily distracted and unmotivated unless the task was daunting and challenging enough; the ironic circumstance of it all only brought them closer.

“I’ll be at school later than normal, so don’t wait up,” says Killua. He is holding onto Alluka’s tiny hand, the little girl glancing up at her brother with so much adoration that Gon wonders just how much competition Killua’s precious sibling will be for his attention. “I want to walk Alluka to the school and show her around before taking her back. Your aunt said it was okay, so…”

Gon grins brightly. “Okay!” He bends down to Alluka’s level and tenderly ruffles her hair. She blinks at him in awe. Honestly, she looks so much like her brother. “You’re going to have an an amazing day, Alluka!” He stands up as she blushes and giggles under her breath, whispering something to Killua.

Her brother snorts, turning redder by the second, and glares at Gon. “Don’t distract my sister, Freecss! She’s too innocent to get corrupted by your weird shamelessness.”

“Eh? I didn’t even say anything weird!” Despite his insistence, Gon is grinning wider than the parting seas. Killua snorts, and suddenly, Gon grabs Killua’s collar and pulls him into a kiss.

Alluka’s jaw drops. “ _Brother_! I knew it!”

Despite Killua’s muffled words on Gon’s mouth, he can feel his lips curl into a reluctant smile. They don’t have enough time (or the privacy) to enjoy each other’s company on the way to school, and Gon knows that this is the only day that he expects this to be the case when he has other matters on his mind. Still, he wishes he could pull Killua flush against him, trail gentle words along his neck and whisper sweet nothings while the other’s skin burns scarlet.

Gon releases Killua, who blinks at him and, despite his stuttering, is definitely smiling. Glowing, even like a beacon that hadn’t been lit in years. 

“See you after school, then?” Gon asks, still leaning close towards the other. His tutor clears his throat, caught between multiple possible responses; Gon knows him far too well to know exactly how the other boy is thinking in his moment of short-circuiting.

He can’t help but be proud of how he’s able to render the most beautiful and intelligent person he has in his life totally speechless and flustered with just one unexpected kiss.

“Whatever, Dummy,” mutters Killua, who stares off to the side with his spare hand in his pocket. His little sister squeezes the opposite hand, but winks towards Gon when the other turns to observe her reaction. Gon chuckles in response, pecks Killua on the cheek, and runs off with a sharp bounce in his step.

Alluka only giggles at her brother’s struggling to regain his composure, but their conversation dies down behind him.

The Zoldyck siblings would never be able to notice Gon’s bleeding palms from how harshly his nails broke into his skin.

* * *

 

* * *

Usually, when he was focused on a task, Gon’s mind deterred into one or two tracks. He never bothered negotiating what side would lead to what issue or what consequence would befall one action, no matter how clearly integrated they were with one another. Before he’d met Killua, he hardly had any reason to lose himself in those moments that he was sure were locked away when he was younger.

Those times were shrouded in darkness, back when he was still incredibly small and overabundant with ambition and energy, clutching to his Aunt Mito’s hand while she smoothed down his hair and told him to be quiet and listen to the doctor.

But when Killua was involved…

He inhales. Exhales. Counts to ten.

A shudder spreads through his body, setting his senses on fire as he stares through the hallway and passes by each classroom. The clock ticks and students turn into painted blurs alongside him, their clothes and voices ruffled in electric spatters. He steers himself forward, hands grappling the straps of his backpack with little abandon. He occasionally thinks back to Killua’s smiling face as he braided his sister’s hair, the flushed, open mouth after a deep kiss.

The bruises Killua sports on his wrists and in imprinted shapes along his waist are now formed from Gon’s own hands, and while he would cut out his own tongue before physically harming Killua, the stretch and pull of their attraction towards each other led to unmistakable markings on both bodies. Gon could hardly suppress the incredible need to bite into Killua’s neck and listen to him say his name on repeat, hands ghosting beneath his shirt and trailing gently along alabaster skin—

He shakes his head, his fingers twitching. A cacophony of discombobulated noise blurs through his senses and travels onto his homework papers. He struggles to pay attention in his classes, especially without Killua there, since the latter was spending time with his sister and, honestly, probably won’t show up at school at all if he had a say in it. Gon would have liked to have him there, normally, but today he was on a mission.

The pencil snaps in his hands. He blinks, stares, and awkwardly excuses himself from the classroom without drawing too much attention. Hushed whispers escalate and disperse around him in swarms. He shakes his head, breathing as slowly as he can muster, and reluctantly glances towards the clock to count the minutes until he has the opportunity to head to the locker room before basketball practice.

The bell rings before Gon even realizes it. He adjusts to it, frowning at the sudden growth of students walking and bumping shoulders and laughing as they move about their day. He recognizes a few of them amidst the chaotic thoughts and images rattling his brain, past the scarred lines of blood welting and bruising his palms. He considers washing his hands before he proceeds throughout the day, but the thought vanishes as quickly as it comes.

A hand rests on his shoulder. He stiffens.

“Hey, Freecss, you okay? You seem really out of it.”

Gon’s mouth turns dry. He knows exactly who this person is. He slowly pivots his heel into the tiles of the hallway, and shrugs off the hand without even turning to look at the other student. He can already picture the smug grin, the tall, strong athletic form and the single hoop earring.

“Not your business,” he mutters.

This isn’t supposed to be what’s happening. He’s not planning on doing this now. Not in the middle of the hallway, where students wander by and can easily capture the scene with their phones and greedy eyes. He considers his options, his brow furrowing in thought, and becomes annoyed at his own hesitation when he knows exactly why he hadn’t been able to sleep and why just glimpsing Killua smiling through the thought of him being attacked with no retribution nearly forced him over the edge.

“You coming to practice tonight?”

Gon whirls on his heel, and faces Asher Perretti’s shocked expression with a hardened glare. He doesn’t care about the strange looks some passing onlookers are granting them. Every tremor in his body, he feels with luster and intensity, and his eyes are boring into every muscle and vein that quakes in slightly hidden fear on Asher’s form. He’s regarded this person as his friend on some occasions, as his co-caption in forced circumstances, but his loyalty to Killua had changed all of those aspects and transformed them into something entirely new.

That line, however, has been severed in too many ways to count.

Asher seems to note the sudden darkness overcoming Gon’s form, as he takes an instinctive step back and a slight mask of uncertainty and realization dawns on him.

“Um, so,” he starts, unsure, “you look pissed, man. Are you mad about me taking over as captain? I mean, you’ve been absent from most practices lately.”

Gon doesn’t answer. He’s not sure why he can’t just… _release_ his pent up frustrations and scream into the other’s throat and slam his face into the wall as many times as he needs to. His fingers curl in and out of his palms, threatening to dive deeper each time, whispering shadowed promises into his mind for the sake of Killua because Killua deserved it over everyone else.

_You hurt Killua._

The words build up in a terrifying frenzy in the back of his throat. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to speak at all, with how intense his arms and legs feel, as if consumed with lead and iron. He wants to make Asher pay for what he’d done to his friend—

“By the way, have you seen Killua today? I’ve been trying to reach him and he’s been ignoring my calls, I think.”

Gon blinks dumbly and can hardly muster the rising pillars of fire coiling in his stomach. He suppresses the intense reflex to punch this bastard across the jaw when the words finally sink in, and all he can think of is how defensive and tight his body and mind are winding up in response to this fool’s ridiculous assumptions.

“Don’t talk to him.”

Asher stiffens at this, and finally locks eyes with Gon. Something unspoken passes between them, a sense of territorial longing that lingers in the background, as if Killua was standing between them and one wanted more control on his presence than the opposing person. Gon can feel the clear tension radiating from Asher’s body, the other’s teeth clearly gritting in frustration behind his closed lips.

“The fuck, Freecss?” Asher slowly leans against the wall.

Both students have dismissed the clock hanging above their reflective lockers. Gon’s eyes briefly flicker to the nervous twitching motions of Asher’s hands in his loose sweatpants pockets, clearly grappling something as a means of venting his frustration and tension.

“I said,” continues Gon, barely hanging onto whatever self-control he has left, “don’t talk to him. I won’t tell you again.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, how it flickers and wavers in the belly of some monstrous hunger, thriving for the sake of protecting another person who has formed an impact on his life that he can hardly describe in words alone.

It’s infuriating, really. They’re not in the right place to have this conversation, and he hadn’t expected to see Asher so early in the morning, or even for Asher to willingly come up to him and talk to him out of nowhere, but just _hearing_ Killua’s name roll off his tongue sparked up his nerves and drove his temper through the ceiling without any warning. He wants to curl up his fists and challenge him to a fight in this exact moment, and listen to the crunching of bones. Killua deserved so much more than an apology, and Gon could never understand why Killua was content with just leaving his pain in the past and unresolved.

“Alright, Gon,” mutters Asher, his antifreeze-green eyes shining just a bit brighter. Temperament glimmers in those irises, and he pushes himself off the wall and slowly strides forward. Gon does not dare move back, his stance strong and powerful while they glare towards one another with threads of tension quaking and boiling in their heated anger. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Gon’s voice is low and breathy when he says: “You know what you did.”

Asher blinks and suddenly steps back. Gon inwardly lifts his head at this gesture, as if some form of dominance was communicated in that split-second motion, but Asher would keel over and die before he would admit to any such thing.

“The fuck? What’s gotten your panties in a fucking twist? I was just asking about Killua.” Asher snorts with a sharp roll of his eyes. “Oh, but wait, he can’t think for his own, right? _You_ have to constantly be in his wake, like some hellish shadow or something. It’s fucking weird.”

Gon’s glare intensifies. “You don’t know anything about Killua.”

_You hurt him. You hurt him. You hurt him. You hurt him._

“That’s where you’re wrong, dipshit!”

Asher throws his hands into the air, despairing towards some higher being since Gon isn’t going to listen to anything he’s about to say. Still, the lack of teachers and students currently present tempts Gon further to just get this conversation over with and force Asher’s bones to meet his fists before he can say anything else.

“I’ve fucking known that kid since we were in middle school! _Before_ you transferred in, you freaking weirdo.” Asher’s brow furrows, and his stance is so lazy and not at all close to being as tense as Gon’s that the son of Ging Freecss wonders if this fool even knows how close is to a fight.

“I don’t care. You hurt him.”

Gon’s words slice through the air like ice. Asher meets his stare head-on, fire boiling in those irises and a sudden challenge coursing through both of their cores and spreading through their arms and legs. Their simultaneous views of Killua seem to merge with one another in strange, distorted harmony, their perspectives of one amazing person entirely different and scattered. Gon will never be able to see it from Asher’s perspective, though unlike what the other teenager thinks, he can only see one way. And one way alone.

“What the fuck are you talking about now?” Asher growls out.

Gon’s teeth visibly grind and it takes the entirety of his self-control to not lash out right then and there. He pictures Killua desperately telling him to not go and avenge him for his near-violation, for finding the person who inflicted those bruises and make them suffer.

He’d never once considered Killua’s wishes, and perhaps he should feel guiltier about that, but in this case he believes he knows what’s best. And avenging Killua’s sake, defending his honor in some twisted, dark way, makes his soul and heart sing and stretch to unfathomable lengths. He wants to see Killua praise him for protecting him in the end, like every other time Killua had stepped forward and bothered shielding Gon from the worst affronts to their lives without him even asking for the Zoldyck’s assistance.

“You put your hands on him.” Gon swallows. _You tried to violate him._ “You _left marks on him_.” _I want to kill you._

Asher winces. Though, he remains steadfast, his shoulders rolled back and tall, lean form abnormally proud for someone who’d silently admitted to such actions.

“I’ve always known Killua more, Freecss. He doesn’t _belong to you_.” His words drip with acid and so much venom for Gon that it almost surprises the other boy. “That kid—he, fuck, I don’t know what’s up with him. How he pulls people in like that. When we were kids he just, he always had this _look_ about him and he always protected that one girl. Canary.”

He trails off in thought, and Gon feels a stab of envy at the fact that Asher is speaking some flake of truth; he had known Killua first, had been in his presence first, had come to witness and observe what the other person was like before their paths crossed in high school.

“So what if I like him?” Asher growls out. Gon stiffens at this admission and the total bluntness in which Asher says it, as if it’s a secret to absolutely no one. Still, he doesn’t like hearing it, doesn’t like the idea of another person like Asher Perretti eyeing Killua Zoldyck like some sort of prize. “Yeah, I fucking want him. And yeah, I kissed him. Sure, I fucked up, and I didn’t want to scare him and all that, but it’s his own fault he wouldn’t answer my calls. And damn, Freecss, if I didn’t know any better,” he drawls out, a dark glimmer in his green orbs, “I’d say you were _jealous_.”

Gon stares into the tiles beneath them. He breathes, counting each breath, each wave of control he’s trying to grasp in this moment. “ _Shut up_.”

“What, did that tiny brain of yours short-circuit? Let me guess, you think I can’t possibly know because you know Killua _so well_ , right?”

Gon does not need to look up to see how close Asher is standing to him now, how the other is harshly breathing and snapping at him under his breath. They have minutes before the next bell rings for the next class and they’re both completely skipping their current classes, though neither of them care given the situation at hand. Neither of them are paying attention to anything other than their palpable anger.

“I fucking know him better. You don’t deserve him, _Gon_.”

_I already know that._

“Shut up.” Gon’s teeth sink his tongue. Tangy copper blooms along his tongue.

And then, Asher just _releases_ every word piling up in his chest, phrases and curses he’d been wanting to say for eons, hoping they ring through Gon’s ears with enough vibrant poignancy to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. Gon does not want to listen to this, but he’s rooted in the same place, and he can’t bring himself to twitch a single muscle when he’s not sure how far the damage will be when he finally snaps.

“What if I told you that wasn’t the first time, hm? I’ve kissed him before, Freecss. Oh, but let me guess, he’s not allowed to kiss anyone other than you, right, dipshit? He’s not allowed to breathe outside your space because you’re _fucked in the head_ and want him for yourself. You’re just a greedy-ass teenager and for fucking once you should just let someone else take what you want. You can’t always want what you can’t have. Maybe I’ve wanted him longer than you! Ever thought of that? Does that sound fucking _fair_? I don’t think it’s fair that you can just waltz right in and become friends with him and suddenly he has all eyes on you and I don’t get to have him the way I want so I’m the fucking villain here?”

Gon’s tongue clicks. His head tilts a quarter of an inch. His right hand balls into a fist, a rock-hard weapon in preparation. “ ** _Shut up_**.”

Asher’s grin is maniacally wide, trembling as if he’s caught between screaming, crying, and yanking every strand of hair out of his skull. “Fuck, it’s so fucking unfair. I know I fucked up but man, you’re way more messed up than I am. If he lets you fuck him then he just doesn’t know what he wants. Hell, if we didn’t stop in the library, I’d guarantee you he’d have stuck with me. Then it would all be fine—”

Asher is unable to process the second between him finishing his sentence and Gon’s one hand reaching for his neck.


	2. The Dam is Breaking.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asher. Gon. The hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Big fight scene coming up. Not too violent, but definite blood, etc. Mild detail. Read at your own discretion.

“That kid is so weird.”

 _Yeah_ , thought Asher, ignoring the sharp trembling in his knees and the tightening of his own hands around his colored pencils, _Killua Zoldyck is weird. You shouldn’t talk to him. Don’t look at him. His family… his family is cursed._

His lips curled at the thought. What if the mysterious boy with the skateboard and backwards cap really was cursed? If his family were truly that dark and brooding and dangerous, then he wouldn’t be at the school, right? However, as soon as the first rumor spread, it evolved into a cloud of tainted flies. Each word became law to each and every student in the building. Killua never seemed to pay attention to it, always lingering next to the walls, always keeping to himself and only daring to make eye contact if it was that other student that he kept to his side at all times: Canary.

His heart lurched at this; Killua had only glanced at him once, and that was right after he’d brutally knocked Jordan Eskyll unconscious. He was not proud to be involved with that brute of a preteen, but the fact remained that he had been associated at all, and the dissonant shudders that spread throughout his body the moment he realized that Killua saw him as basically a clone of Jordan Eskyll, he knew he didn’t have the courage to introduce himself. Not properly, anyway.

 _He doesn’t even know I exist_ , he thought. Pressure built in the back of his eyelids, and he struggled maintaining his composure to wipe the wetness away before anyone noticed. He ignored other students when they tried talking to him, and the curious inquiring of the teachers as they loomed over him like comforting and invasive shadows.

“You shouldn’t feel bad. He doesn’t really pay attention to anyone.”

Asher sniffed and furiously wiped at his nose, turning his head in the direction of the voice. His stomach dropped at recognizing those large, doe-like brown eyes, smoldering like heated chocolate. Braids rippling with lavender and pink bows, fastened with scattered intricacy. She wasn’t even looking at him, her attention solely glued to the papers spread out in front of her on her too-small desk, but her attention was clearly elsewhere with the continuous tapping of her pencil.

“Canary?” Asher asked, closing his mouth as soon as the name left. Canary blinked at him, and bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a smile.

“You already know who I am. I saw you, when Jordan hit me.” Her eyes darkened for a moment. Asher turned away from the furious fire behind her glare, wondering if just about everyone associated with the Zoldyck boy carried that same fire so easily in their bones. “You told him to stop, though, so you’re not a bad name in my book.”

Asher could feel the slight tension leave his shoulders at this admission. “Ah.”

“Do you like him?”

“Jordan? No, not really,” said Asher, trying to distract himself with a doodle on the corner of his mathematics homework assignment. “He was never really that nice to me. I just played along with it—”

“No, dummy,” said Canary, grinning at his distraught expression. “Master Killua.”

He frowned at the prefix she added to the Zoldyck heir’s name, but her previous question left a definite red tinge to his ears. He groaned at the sudden flushing of heat reaching his neck and crawling to his cheeks. He didn’t want to talk about this, not when he was already teased for possibly staring at Killua for far too long during one of their shared class periods, and the other couldn’t even bother to turn around with his skateboard still tucked neatly against his hip.

“Don’t be dumb,” he replied snidely, hoping that his words struck her with enough venom to keep her quiet for the remainder of their forced time sitting next to each other. Yet, as the clock ticked, Canary only giggled beside him, as if oblivious to the turmoil and anger building deep in his stomach. “Why are you laughing?” he demanded, fingers clutching the edge of his desk.

“Mm, you’re just a bad liar. Even Master Killua would figure out that you think he’s cute. I don’t blame you. He’s got pretty eyes.” She smiled shamelessly. Asher prickled beneath her relaxed smile and rapidly fluttering eyelashes; it was almost as if he was being placed in a trance, his secrets weeded out in front of him with no choice whatsoever. “Master Killua isn’t one for romance, though. He probably wouldn’t like you all that much.”

He bit his tongue, growling. “You talk funny.”

“No, I’m just more educated.” She smiled at him, all glistening teeth and ridiculously beautiful doll features and eyes, as she gathered her books and left. 

* * *

 

**_… Four Years Later…_ **

****

* * *

The next thing Asher sees is Gon’s black irises. There is no other way to describe the sensation of another male’s fingers wrapping around his neck, feeling the air being choked out of his lungs as he struggles to fight for breath and retaliate in the same span of a handful of seconds. He flails, kicks, and tumbles with the other athlete in a tumbling somersault in the school hallway, grasping Gon’s shoulders and shoving him backwards. They rip apart from one another, their sneakers scuffing the waxed tiled floors of the hallway, the lockers shut and locked as if they were never opened. Asher zeroes in on one particular spot across from him, right next to Gon’s lingering, panting form, his brow tightly furrowed and fists clenched brutally at his sides.

“Cheap shot, Gon,” mutters Asher, searching through Gon’s darkened eyes for some sign of the person he’d become familiar with on the basketball team. Any sign at all. Yet, the more he takes his time to search, the more he realizes he sees nothing there. Nothing at all. “What’s going on with you, huh? Is this really all about Killua? You care about him that fucking much?”

Another eruption of laughter bubbles in his chest, stabbing him in the bones and coiling around his heart. This rush, this joyous stream of subtle power coursing through his veins and commanding his attention like being jolted backwards by horse’s reigns are enough to split apart what he sees in front of him. He witnesses Gon’s trembling form, the other teenager halfway gone, and Asher can already feel his consciousness slipping into another plane, the same void of reality and thought that compelled him to act on his desires and pin Killua Zoldyck against the desk in the library.

_It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair._

He remembers watching Killua on his lonesome, calmly skidding along the sidewalk on his skateboard while he listened to stolen tracks of music from the local antique store. He remembers witnessing the sun slanting off of Killua’s silver-pale hair in wisps of dismembered light, sparkling along his skin and causing the strangest, most surreal glimmer of ocean waves in his irises. Those eyes—they’d haunted him in his dreams, stained his perception with visions he could never truly grasp, commanded his hands to wander lower and his desperate voice calling the other’s name in a shameful attempt to recapture those fleeting moments in his subconscious.

“I would’ve fucked him, you know,” Asher snaps, boiling anger surging in his gut, storming in his heart in a vicious tornado. “And—and I almost did! He would’ve liked it.”

_What the fuck am I saying?_

“You don’t have to be his fucking hero, Freecss! It doesn’t have to be you!”

_You’re no better…_

“I saw him first! I saw him first, and, I could’ve been friends with him first and then _you_ came along and you fucking ruined it. I told you to stay away from him. I told you he was bad news and you didn’t listen.”

_You’re the jealous one, you idiot. What are you saying?_

“But you want to be the hero, right? I doubt Killua sent you to beat me up. Not like you can. I deserve a chance with him as much as you, hell, even more so, you fucking idiot!”

_What am I saying? Why do I care so much? I want him. I want him. So, it doesn’t matter, right? It’s okay to fucking want him…_

He wants to vomit in his mouth at his own words, palms sweating and his mind racing with a thousand other solutions to this problem; if he were smarter, he would have walked away. If he had planned this encounter better, he would be walking out of this unscathed. If he wasn’t so willing to prove himself as worthy of Killua’s attention, he wouldn’t be facing Gon Freecss on the opposite side of the school hallway with just the beginnings of a vicious scuffle marking his flesh.

He blinks, temporarily stepping out of his moment of madness to glimpse over Gon’s trembling, heavily breathing demeanor. The other teen is wracking himself in his mind, torn between two separate pathways and only admonishing him with half of his brain wired to _attack_ and _attack_ and _attack_. It aggravates Asher to the very core, being able to witness these emotions flicker through Gon’s dissipated eyes, as if staring into twin black holes and refusing to climb out of them without winning a fistfight against the universe.

Then, he finds himself slammed against the lockers, one fist driven into his stomach. He gasps out, unable to react in time as Gon uses his other fist to ram into his chin. His teeth knock together and his jaw turns numb, blood and swelling spotting his skin and cracking open what protective coverage he had through his clothes. He grunts, and then slams his head forward, knocking into Gon’s forehead. The other stumbles back and hesitates in his moment of pain, and Asher lunges forward.

Their limbs and fists flying toward each other are enough to grab the attention of passersby. Neither of them notice as their clothes become torn in the blurring whirlwind of punches, bites, scratches, kicks, taunts and barreling, their silhouettes moving so quickly and unfocused that the only way they can find each other is through the mutual anger. Students gather around them in a growing circle, faces pale and fingers pointed, gasps leaving their open mouths in disbelief as two star athletes wrestle and inflict heavy wounds on each other as if it’s just another day.

Finally, Asher’s back slams into the tiled floors. For the second time, his breath is knocked clean out of his lungs, stars blotching his vision. In his brief moment of falling and feeling Gon’s other hand wrapping around his neck and forcing his head back, he can barely make out the widened, dark irises of his opponent—

 _What?_ He must be seeing things—

“Why,” he chokes out, spitting out a broken tooth as Gon tightens his grip on his neck, but as he suspected, the other is shaking like a loose leaf in winter, his teeth visibly clenching between peeled, trembling, split lips. “Why… are you _crying_ —”

Then, Gon’s clenched fist, compact like a perfectly formed stone, slams into his cheek. Pain bursts into numbness on his right side, his vision blanking out halfway. His head lops back and forth in bobbling motions, listening only faintly to the startled screams and disgruntled cries rising around them in heavy clouds. His body convulses and shakes as Gon’s fist finds him again, and again, and again, and again—

Each punch is worse than the last, but his movements begin to slow down, sweat, blood and tears dripping into his clothes and soaking through his scratched skin. His eyes are swollen shut and surely black by now, even with the continuous pounding of Gon’s fist against his face. In a brief second, where he has the chance to glimpse up at his attacker, he sees it again, the impossible, illogical representation of an angry avenger.

Tears. Twin rivers of identical, furiously blinding tears leaking out of Gon’s glistening amber-gold eyes, as if pools of molten lava transformed into an ocean just minutes before dispersing. Asher’s breath holds in a struggle to regain any feeling back in his broken jaw and nose, scarlet froth bubbling past his teeth as saliva continuously builds under his tongue. But, he keeps staring, bewildered. Unbelieving.

Gon is shaking as if he’s being cornered against the wall, each punch worse than the last, the other male’s brow furrowed as if he’s never been angrier in his life, his teeth grinding like chipping pearls. Then, suddenly, he becomes a mass of flailing limbs, his body weight receding from Asher’s stunned, barely conscious form. He twitches, watching with bated breath and confusion, as Gon kicks and scrambles in the grasp of two taller men, both armed with broad shoulders and strong voices that pound his skull like a secondary headache.

Gon still pushes against him, still tries, and he’s screaming. It’s a horrible, gut-wrenching, awful noise, and it rips through Asher’s heart because he knows that Gon only becomes this angry, this legendarily angry over something that matters.

He doesn’t know why he cares. He shouldn’t.

“ _You have to apologize_!”

Asher’s left eyelid half-blinks. He moans in agony as a blurred image rushes to his side, checking his arms, his limbs. All that he can pay attention to is Gon being forcefully pulled away from him, the other’s figure disappearing beyond the growing crowd of strange faces and startled silhouettes. Gon’s tears are of frustration, now, his fists bloodied and eyes wild, but he’s still shaking in desperation, as if pushed to his limits and unsure of how to accept it.

“ _You have to apologize to Killua!_ ”

It’s the last thing he hears before Asher loses himself in a black, empty world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sigh* WOO. 
> 
> So, this chapter's shorter... but it's an important one. The last chapter of "Safeguard" will be longer, and be in Killua's perspective. Big surprise. I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> I also suck at writing fight scenes so, my bad. :P
> 
> I just got a Tumblr, by the way. Want to talk about KilluGon and random story ideas and such? Come find me. :D 
> 
> https://driftingglass.tumblr.com/


	3. Barricade.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua has a word or two in store for Gon...

Killua braces his elbows on his knees, rubbing his left temple with his thumb. He stares across the waxed floors of the school hallway, admonishing the splintered cracks winding and twisting around the familiar brass doorknob to the principal’s office. He’s been sitting here for over an hour now, feeling oddly empty and alone without the presence of his sister, and Gon.

The door opens. Mito Freecss slips out of the doorway, her eyes swollen red around the rim. She turns, and smiles faintly at Killua, though her lips are strained, her hands clenching and unclenching above the fabric of her skirt in a way that seems so oddly familiar that Killua must blink to be sure that she’s not actually a blood relative to Gon.

“Did he… say what happened?” Killua asks.

He swallows, because he already knows the answer. Or, at least half of it. Having strolled down the sidewalk with his sister’s hand firmly clasped in his was straight out of his childhood dreams, visions contorting his reality in a way that would force him to believe that it was never possible. But once his phone rang, and Mito’s desperate cries slurred over the speaker and chilled his blood to ice, he knew that was something was wrong, that something had happened with _Gon_.

Mito brushes away the tears threatening to streak along her cheeks. “Listen, Killua,” she says, softly, a breath of wind in a dark, lonesome world, “your principal had me call you because the fight that happened was about you. I was worried that both you and Gon were fighting, but I realized, that wasn’t possible, since you were with your sister.”

Killua’s frown deepens. His nails burrow into his pants. A coil of fear springs in his chest, festering on his old, building emotions. He thinks of his sister, currently straightening out her curls in the high school restroom, and he wants her to be there so he can assure her that Gon’s anger is not a danger to her. It has never been a danger to her, but it has become a danger now, and apparently in the face of someone who’s been kept shrouded in mystery since Killua and Mito walked through the building’s front doors.

He sinks his teeth into his knuckles, nibbling. In the back of his mind, he jumps to a myriad of conclusions, all of which begin with Gon’s angry, petrified glare. The amber depths of his eyes receding into dark ashen depths—when his mind disappears and Killua has to talk to him and soothe him from far away. From places where he knows he can’t follow, but needs to be patient in order to form a link in the darkness.

“I’ve already spoken with him. He’s… he’s not expelled, but he did instigate the fight. One-week suspension. He wouldn’t tell me who it was that he had a problem with.” Mito sighs, her shoulders heavy. Exhausted. Killua watches her steadily, noting the hesitation in her frame.

“Miss Mito,” says Killua, swallowing, “can you take Alluka back to your house? I should probably talk with him.”

Mito’s eyes widen at this. “Oh—yes! Of course.” She sighs. “Listen, before you talk with him, Killua, understand that if he takes it out on you, it’s not your fault. Gon can be a bit distant when it comes to this. It’s been years since he’s expressed this type of behavior, but how he’s handled the aftereffects…” She shakes her head. “It’s always been hard.”

 _I can imagine_. Killua stares at the door, pictures Gon’s hunched frame beyond the glass. What state of mind would he be in right now? What trains of thought would be passing through his conscious in this moment? Was he still angry? Was he happy with what he did? “I have a feeling I know what happened.”

He’s angry. Livid, even, but he needs to be calm before he talks to Gon. If they’re both riled up and out of control, nothing will be resolved.

Once Mito leaves, he’s left alone in the hall, staring at the door as if it beckons for him with its stationary position. He wills himself to move, shoes weighed down as if filled with lead, but he doesn’t move an inch. His fingers wrap around one another, nails piercing skin.

The door opens. Gon slinks into the hall, and Killua holds his breath to observe the other’s features. Gon’s left eye is brutally swollen shut and deeply purple. Scratches mar his exposed shoulders and forearms, additional bite marks and bruises marking his olive skin. He lifts his gaze, and meets Killua’s eyes with hesitation and other dancing emotions in his (thankfully) bright irises that scream one word in Killua’s mind: _shame._

Gon has the nerve to lightly bow his head.

“Killua—”

“Gon.” Killua shakes his head, gathering the willpower he needs to tell Gon to just listen and not act on his impulses. _For once in your life. Come on._ “Let’s go somewhere else. We need to talk.”

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

The park across the street from Haverforth High School is vacant during this time of day. A scant amount of trees decorates the grassy hills, a gentle, warm breeze rippling through branches and tossing leaves off their hinges like coats off wire hangers. Killua keeps his hands in his pockets, refusing to even look over toward Gon with the brief amount of time it takes to cross the street and allow his shoes to sink into the muddied grass.

Killua breathes in the late afternoon air, allows it to brush over his skin. He and Gon continue wandering in silence, awkwardly a few inches apart from each other, though Killua can feel the tension in Gon’s body, wafting off in fiery waves. He knows the other wants to talk to him, wants to hold his hand. Wants to kiss him.

It pains Killua to refuse these subconscious urges, from both himself and from Gon’s wandering eyes. He can feel the other teen’s stare burning into his back, questioning his methods. His own inner turmoil subjected to hefty, wracking guilt.

“You’re an idiot,” he says bluntly. He turns to Gon, watching as the other stiffens like a rock and allows the words to sink in. He can witness the tremors of unsureness pass over Gon like an extra gust of wind, but he’s shrugging it off and accepting it at the same time. “What the hell were you thinking, Gon?” He whispers, refusing to meet Gon’s eyes in fear that the other teen’s expression will harden and he will be at the mercy of losing him once more.

Gon’s voice sounds far away, as if speaking into a tunnel underwater. Killua knows he’s there, and he can reach out and run his hands through his raven locks if he wants, but he chooses not to acknowledge this. He chooses not to focus on the desperate, heavy pain swelling up in his chest, and the anger thrusting aside his growing emotions in energetic bursts.

“I’m sorry.”

Killua stills at this. He finally turns to look at Gon, his friend’s stare now burning into the grass swaying around their sneakers. His lips are tight and gaze thoughtful, a furrow contouring the lines of his brow.

“He shouldn’t have hurt you, though.”

Killua’s teeth grit. “Gon, that’s—that’s not the _point_.”

He needs to keep himself level, to be sure that they’re communicating on the same wavelength. There were many, many times where he and Gon were forced into opposite ends of the spectrum, glaring and laughing and breaking off whatever silly competition they would be having over milkshakes and ignored mountains of homework.

Gon stares at him, confusion shining brightly on his features. Even with his horrendous black eye he still stares with the full force of the sun, and it’s too much for Killua to handle.

“You’re so stupid.” Killua shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Killua?” Gon keeps his distance, but despite what he may believe, it’s painful for both of them. Killua wants to punch him in the jaw to prove a point, to let the message sink in another way that was far more physical than what he was already going for. It was unfair, really, how Gon was able to unintentionally deflect these moments and pretend that nothing was wrong.

Or that everything was wrong.

“Gon, I don’t _care_ what happens to me, alright? I already dealt with the situation and dropped it. I asked you not to do anything and you’re a huge fucking idiot for going for it anyway. What the hell, Gon? Seriously!” Killua rolls his eyes, harshly grasping his jeans and staring at pointedly anything else but Gon’s infuriating expression. “You don’t know when to _think_. When I first met you, I thought: oh, this guy is a typical athlete who thinks with his muscles and nothing else. Sometimes, Gon, that’s exactly what you do, and you did that today and you… you got hurt because of _me_.”

He turns away, clenching his jaw impossibly tight. Tremors run through his body, expanding and enclosing on the desperate emotions coursing through his veins. There are too many things he wants to say, and many of them are confused and contradictory to the other. He can easily pick out which ones make sense and which ones have no place in the current context, but the underlying truth of it all is that Gon rejected his requests to satisfy his own desires. His own ego.

“You did this for yourself, not for me,” whispers Killua.

These words strike him as hard as any bullet, riddling his gut and tormenting his mind. A prickling sensation gathers behind his eyes, but he blinks them away before any tears can actually fall. His heart had already plummeted to his toes the moment he realized Gon was _hurt_ and it was all because of him.

“Killua, that’s not true.”

Killua turns on his heel, facing Gon now with newfound fervency. Anger turns into raging fire in his gut, pooling in his chest and spurring to his clenched fists and wildly wracked brain.

“We both know I’m better at the logical part of these arguments, if you want to get technical about it,” growls Killua.

Gon winces as if he’d been slapped, but the determined stubbornness is still there, lingering in a gentle fog. It angers Killua more, but he knows Gon is keeping his own answers locked inside him until Killua has finished speaking, and this both encourages him and forces him to hesitate. Gon has always pushed him to become a contradiction of himself, and it bothers him to no end.

“That doesn’t mean you’re always right. As smart as you are.” Gon’s lips twist into a resemblance of a smile. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Killua. I stand by my decision, though.” He searches Killua’s shadowed eyes, the hurt clear as winter mist. Killua hopes that his stare burns into Gon as much as the other’s nearly singes the hair off the nape of his neck.

“Gon—”

“You’re wrong, about not caring what happens to you. It always matters.” He shakes his head, as if unable to comprehend what Killua is telling him, though the Zoldyck can hardly think outside of the box he’s constructed for himself. He opens his mouth to reply, though Gon stops him with just returning to lock eyes with him once more. “I don’t… understand, how you can’t see how amazing you are.” Gon’s throat bobs, as if choking down more words than he can allow, tears dappling his eyelids and threatening to break. “You’re my best friend, and, I mean, I want more than that, but that’s okay if you don’t. I understand if you don’t, after this. Just…” he trails off, shaking his head. “You’re making excuses for someone who took advantage of you. I don’t get it.”

Killua stares. Silent. His heart hums desperately beneath his chest, rethinking the last few sentences that rolled off Gon’s tongue as easily as a song. It felt forbidden, hearing those words, listening to them replay in his mind. His cheeks color at the implication, and he can hardly resist thinking back to the previous night, meshing his mouth with Gon’s and allowing the other’s rough, calloused hands to explore his body in the dark comfort of his bedroom.

“You think I would…” Killua almost laughs at how cruel the possibility is. “You think I would just drop and _leave_?”

Gon frowns. “No. Not… not exactly. I just knew you didn’t want me to do it, but, you were saying you didn’t care about what happened to you. I wanted to make up for that by doing it for you.”

Killua blinks. “Your logic makes no sense.” _It never has_.

“It makes sense to me,” says Gon, as if that was the ultimate answer to all of their problems. Killua is half-tempted to give him another black eye, but the soft part of his heart that still wants to desperately kiss Gon’s bruises and tell him that he’s forgiven him creeps in the back of his mind and taunts.

Killua’s mind races. He ponders over Gon’s words, recalls every instant in which they’ve caught each other’s stares and awkward hand-brushing on more than one occasion. He remembers allowing his emotions to take over and slam the other’s back against the brick wall of an alley, meshing their mouths and bodies and souls together as if they were always meant to be one. He remembers deliberately allowing Gon to close the space between them, his sister smiling and laughing in the halls of his home, while they embraced. Kissed. Whispered in the secrecy of his bedroom and observed only by the waking light of the moon.

“Gon.” Killua hesitates. He knows just how fragile this topic is, how the questions have been threaded in the air since long before Asher Perretti even stepped into their lives. “I…” He bites his tongue. “You asked me, the other night, what I wanted. Are—are you saying that you _like_ me? Um,” he pauses, grumbling at his inability to find the correct words. “You… ugh, I can’t talk. What do _you_ want from this, Gon?”

He feels utterly foolish for not even considering this aspect of their relationship. Given Gon’s erratic behavior as of late, and even beforehand when he’d discovered the truth of the whiplashed scars and bruises inflicted behind the Zoldyck manor walls, Killua knew there was a fraction of something he couldn’t entirely understand.

Their tutoring sessions, their incessant time spent together, the phone calls, the conversations over ice cream after hours of torturous math and science papers… it crawls back and bloats the moment of confusion shared between Killua and Gon, and suddenly the Zoldyck can feel his nervousness return, but for an entirely different reason. He loathes how easily his skin flushes dark and rosy beneath the fading sun, betraying any sense of foothold he would have in this conversation and many more to come.

“I’ve liked you for awhile, Killua,” says Gon with a mischievous smile. Killua hates how charming it is even with the nasty welts bruising his skin and the fact that he was incredibly angry with him only moments ago. “Think that’s why people kiss each other. You know, alone, locked in a room—”

“Okay, _okay_ , I get it. Jesus.” Killua snorts, burrowing his hands into his pockets and staring off into the receding sunset. He feels his blush growing stronger, annoyance prickling around his gut. He refuses to turn and admonish the potentially smug grin overtaking Gon’s lips. “So embarrassing,” he mutters.

Killua nearly trips when Gon comes much closer to him, the other’s hands immediately raising to cup his face. Killua blinks, momentarily breathless, staring into the gentle waves of amber that form the other teen’s irises. Gon’s smile is gentle and fragile, lingering fears from the past still staining what’s left of his sunny disposition.

Before he can allow him to inch closer, Killua gently grasps Gon’s wrists and lowers them. Gon frowns at this, stepping back and experimenting the proximity. Killua shakes his head, running his hands further along and intertwining their fingers—smooth olive weaving and threading through slick ivory.

“So…” Killua sighs. “Don’t tell me you put him in the ER, or anything like that.”

Gon’s eyes darken in a flash, but he quickly pushes that aside as he finds a focusing glint in Killua’s stone-cold glare.

“I did,” he confesses, rather sheepishly given the circumstances.

Killua groans and takes away one of his hands to rub his eyes. Another headache is already forming, and he can already assume it has nothing to do with potential dehydration from the concerned tears he’d shed only an hour before. Though he’d agree to nearly anything before admitting that he was crying over the possibility of Gon having injured himself over something that _he_ created.

“Great. I still have to talk to him—”

“What?” Gon’s jaw slacks. “Wha—why? Why are you going to talk to him? After what he did to you?” He tilts his head in confusion, his brow furrowing. Killua bites his bottom lip to prevent a snarky comment from tumbling out, but he has plenty of ammunition he can release later. “You don’t owe him anything, Killua,” says Gon with such strong insistence that it almost frightens Killua. Though, he’s seen Gon in his worst and he can tell that the other teen is lucid enough to not lose himself in another trance, so he’ll gladly take more risks in this context.

“Yeah, I know that. He’s an asshole.” Killua shrugs. “I heard that you wanted him to apologize, though. Right?” He wags his finger and jabs Gon in the chest. The other stumbles and searches Killua for any indication of dishonesty, though when he finds none, he simply nods. “Right. So, obviously, he’s going to have to talk to me to do that. Two words. _I’m sorry_. Can’t be that hard. I don’t give a single shit about his apology but I know that you’ll lose sleep for weeks if he doesn’t fess up and do it.”

Gon frowns at this, though a gentle flicker of what Killua can perceive to be reluctant acceptance and understanding dance in his eyes.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Gon sighs. “But Killua is strong. I know that.” He nods, as if attempting to accept this development himself and not just convince Killua otherwise.

“I’m still mad at you,” says Killua, one hand propped on his hip while the other waves a finger in front of Gon’s face. The other teen follows his moving appendage with crossed eyes, a confused groan rumbling from inside him. “I had this whole speech planned out, and everything. Damn it all, Freecss, you always make this so complicated. I think it’s annoying. And embarrassing. And now I’m talking too much.” Killua snorts. “Don’t look so smug!”

Gon’s smile is stretched so far wide his dimples deepen even further than Killua thought possible.

“What if I buy you chocolate?”

Killua raises an eyebrow. “… What kind?” he challenges.

Gon’s practically sparkling when he hums in thought, rocking back and forth in his sneakers. Killua stifles another mumble of surprise in just how different this Gon is acting compared to the one who languishes and grovels beneath his waves of rage. Even his aunt hinted at previous predicaments related to it, though it felt strange, actually seeing the effects come to life.

 _Night and day_ , Killua muses. “Oi, if you can’t make a decision, we should probably just go.”

“No, wait, Killua! I want to get you so many things though! It’s so hard to pick! And take you to all these places.” Then, Gon brightens even more, and it would have looked so endearing without the ridiculous swelling around his left eye. “Killua! I can take you on _dates_ now.”

Killua blinks. “Um.”

 _Dates?_ His heart roars in his eyes, as if chanting and riding on the waves of happiness as he replays that word repeatedly in his mind. He thinks of him going to various places with Gon at his side, the two of them exchanging heartfelt words and sinister secrets beneath the stars, the lights of a movie theater, candles flickering on pristine white tables… though some of those options seem altogether unappealing to him, the idea remains.

Him. Gon. Together. Not just kissing. Not just cuddling.

But. _Together_.

“Together?” Killua echoes lamely.

Gon frowns at this, as if frustrated that his own tutor can’t follow his train of thought. “Yes, Killua! I want to go on dates with you! Us, together, going to movies and taking walks after school and maybe not going to the skate park for a while. And, maybe other things that you want to do. And then we can take Alluka places too and—”

“Wait. Gon. Hold up.” Killua shakes his head rapidly, as if a dog removing excess water from its fur. “I’m still processing. Are you…” He trails off, one eyebrow suspiciously risen as he observes the unabashed shamelessness on his companion’s face. “Are you actually asking me out? Officially? To _date me_?”

Gon shrugs. “Well. Yeah.”

Killua’s cheeks burst into flames. “Uh. Oh. Right.” He clears his throat. “Obviously I want to do those things too, you idiot.” He snorts. _It’s not like we haven’t kissed before or anything._

Still, it feels… different, this time. He’s not entirely sure why.

“Good!” Gon smiles.

“Um. Yeah.” Killua’s palms are sweating. _Shit. Why does this always happen? I’m supposed to be angry. And I’m not. Ugh. I can never say not to this guy. I don’t understand._

He nearly squeaks out of his thoughts with an abrupt pressing of the other’s lips against his. Killua’s tense shoulders loosen almost instantly, his eyes closing as he lets Gon’s warm lips run over his. He relaxes as the other raises his hands to cup his face, their motions chaste and gentle.

Gon leans back with a small, barely noticeable smile. It makes Killua’s heart leap and soar.

“So, we’re _boyfriends_ now!”

Killua’s eye twitches. He groans in misery and lightly pinches Gon’s cheek. The other teen grumbles and whines in annoyance as the Zoldyck continues pulling and glaring, another blush crawling up his neck and spilling into his cheeks.

“You’re. So. _Embarrassing_.”

Yet, he can hardly think of anything more perfect than realizing that Gon, despite his insistence on not listening to him and his reliance on his ridiculous temper, is safe.

 _Safe_ , he thinks, with a crooked lilt to his smile, _and that’s more than fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone, as always, for reading this series. The last part will be up next week, consisting of two total chapters and forming a conclusion to this long, fun journey. Thank you for lasting this long and sticking by until the end! I appreciate it more than you could possibly know!
> 
> Until next time. :)

**Author's Note:**

> AH SO MUCH LOVE FROM YOU GUYS. Thank you so much. It honestly means the WORLD that all have you have read and commented on this series and are enjoying it so much. As promised, this section will be split into three chapters! 
> 
> Oh, and it's just about to get a bit crazy... if you couldn't tell already.
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE. I'm so humbled. It honestly means the world.


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